I stepped forward as I tapped the end of my baton in my free hand. “Klimm! Give me one reason that I shouldn’t just end your miserable existence right now?”
El Diablito looked down at the prone form of Jim at his feet before reaching down and picking up the black briefcase at his feet. He cackled before he spoke. “I know how much you value your friends, Rusty. They are all you have after all, now that I have that little bastard daughter of yours safely tucked away.”
His words stung me worse than anything physical that he could have done. I lunged forward, but drew myself short a couple of paces from them. “What have you done with Alexa?”
Diablito had flinched when I came forward, but found his courage again as Rose drew herself up beside him and Papa Locks inched forward as well.
“Oh, it wasn’t easy to get those arrogant fools to launch an all out attack on your organization. They didn’t think your ORC’s posed much of a threat just yet and weren’t too eager to expose themselves, so I had to clue them in on some of Drake’s little media tricks. Don’t worry Bones, your little Alexa is perfectly safe, although I can’t say as much for her erstwhile guardians.” He shook his head as spoke. “Papa Locks here was quite glad to show his mettle against that vile wench you call Cerrydwen. Rose will enjoy playing with her new pets very much!”
I was just about to explode in homicidal rage when I felt a small voice whisper into my head in a long-forgotten language.
“Rusty, it’s the Frau. Don’t react to my voice, just listen. Jim’s coming around and will make the first move. Don’t make any sudden moves until he does. Ravyn’s waiting as well. Once Jim makes his move, we’re going to need you to get us out of here as fast as you can. In the meantime, keep that Little Devil talking.”
It took me a moment to digest the Frau’s instructions and then realize that I couldn’t give anything away. It was also the first time I could remember where I was being asked to keep one of my enemies talking.
“Klimm, you’re playing with very dangerous matches if you think that you can control the An’girasii for any period of time.”
Diablito laughed again. “Everyone can be controlled, if you know the right levers to use.”
I shook my head. “You obviously have no idea of who you are dealing with, Klimm. Those things aren’t human. They need to be stopped before they take over this world. If you gave them information about us that allowed them take us down now, then you may have served their purposes more than they served yours.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m quite sure that is what those arrogant fools believe. But you’re wrong, Bones. I know exactly what these creatures are. More importantly I know where they came from and what they fe….argh!!!”
Jim had lashed out with the bat that had fallen close to him and struck Diablito on the knee with a thunderous blow that ended in a vicious snapping sound. Jim was muttering something as swung that sounded quite a bit like ‘you don’t fuck with a man’s automobile’.
El Diablito dropped the briefcase as he fell to one knee, just in time for Jim to land a second, glancing blow to his shoulder that slid up and connected with his skull with a dull thud that ended all outcries from the older man.
Rose lashed out towards Jim with her talon-like nails, but not before one of the Frau’s enormous paws connected with her. The massive blow sent the slender woman flying over El Diablito and into Papa Locks before he could react, sending them both sprawling.
Ravyn grunted as she hurled a small of flame over the three main antagonists and into the room behind them. The ball expanded almost as quickly as it flew, blowing up into a great swirling maelstrom of fire that exploded and threw flames and debris in every direction as it landed.
Summoning all of my Will to keep myself from delivering the final blow to the sneaky bastard myself, I sighed and summoned the Shadow and pulled Jim, the Frau, Ravyn and the briefcase in with me before the flames of another Ravyn induced inferno could reach us.
Showing posts with label Rose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rose. Show all posts
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
From the Frying Pan Into the Fire...Part 1
Ravyn and I followed the same path that the Professor had taken a few minutes earlier. Each of us had a number of bags in hand, but hers were of the lighter variety than mine.
After crossing the lot, we came to a set of heavy metal double doors with the one on the right having been left ajar. Just as I moved to set on the bags down to open the door further, the Frau lumbered up behind us, wuffling in excitement.
“Rusty, hold on! Something doesn’t smell quite right.”
“This place has a ‘right smell’ to it? We might as well go in, Jim’s inside already.”
The Frau’s head swiveled back and forth. “Then he’s not alone.”
Ravyn dropped her bags with a crash. She reached out with her right hand to yank the door open while holding her now flaming left hand up above her shoulder. “Come on you two, we can’t leave him alone for long!”
I followed suit, dropping the rest of her bags and triggered the baton to drop into my right hand. I held the door that Ravyn had opened so that she and the Frau could slip into the dust filled darkness within.
The place had definitely been an institution of some sort. It had the wide corridors and tiled floors of a place that had once been clean and well-maintained.
Ravyn and the Frau padded ahead of me, while my heavy steps echoes throughout the empty halls. Jim’s trail was readily apparent in the grime that covered the tiles.
The small orbs of fire that now danced around Ravyn’s shoulders, provided most of the light that we had, although stray beams of dust-filled sun-light cut through the darkness in intermittent patches.
Ravyn motioned for us all to stop for a moment and called out, her voice cutting through the grim silence of the place. “Jim, where are you?”
In the distance we heard a muffled attempt to shout in response that was interrupted by the sickening sound of a smack to someone’s head and a dull thud.
That sent Ravyn racing forward with the Frau lurching to a run behind her.
I called the Shadow and placed myself solidly ahead of both of them so that I would bear the brunt of any hidden attacks.
Jim’s trail led us around a blind corner and into a large, dark room that was probably once a cafeteria.
Several figures stood waiting for us as we rounded the bend.
El Diablito stood in the center of the group, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief as waited with his arms crossed.
On his right was a thin, waif-like woman with hungry, almond-shaped brown eyes, and lanky, dark hair. I recognized her as Rose from the memory orb I had seen months earlier.
On his left was an even more ominous figure, the shrouded figure of Papa Locks, his gloved fists clenched at his sides. He loomed over the unconscious form of Jim.
As we pulled up to face these three, several more figures emerged from the Shadow around the room. Each of these half dozen figures had the heavy shoulders and the bearings of men who were more than comfortable in dealing out violence. They each held weapons of one sort or another, ranging from sub-machine guns for the farthest three to the oddly glowing and crackling clubs of the three closest to us.
El Diablito chuckled as we took in the scene.
“It was so nice of you to invite me to your little party…”
After crossing the lot, we came to a set of heavy metal double doors with the one on the right having been left ajar. Just as I moved to set on the bags down to open the door further, the Frau lumbered up behind us, wuffling in excitement.
“Rusty, hold on! Something doesn’t smell quite right.”
“This place has a ‘right smell’ to it? We might as well go in, Jim’s inside already.”
The Frau’s head swiveled back and forth. “Then he’s not alone.”
Ravyn dropped her bags with a crash. She reached out with her right hand to yank the door open while holding her now flaming left hand up above her shoulder. “Come on you two, we can’t leave him alone for long!”
I followed suit, dropping the rest of her bags and triggered the baton to drop into my right hand. I held the door that Ravyn had opened so that she and the Frau could slip into the dust filled darkness within.
The place had definitely been an institution of some sort. It had the wide corridors and tiled floors of a place that had once been clean and well-maintained.
Ravyn and the Frau padded ahead of me, while my heavy steps echoes throughout the empty halls. Jim’s trail was readily apparent in the grime that covered the tiles.
The small orbs of fire that now danced around Ravyn’s shoulders, provided most of the light that we had, although stray beams of dust-filled sun-light cut through the darkness in intermittent patches.
Ravyn motioned for us all to stop for a moment and called out, her voice cutting through the grim silence of the place. “Jim, where are you?”
In the distance we heard a muffled attempt to shout in response that was interrupted by the sickening sound of a smack to someone’s head and a dull thud.
That sent Ravyn racing forward with the Frau lurching to a run behind her.
I called the Shadow and placed myself solidly ahead of both of them so that I would bear the brunt of any hidden attacks.
Jim’s trail led us around a blind corner and into a large, dark room that was probably once a cafeteria.
Several figures stood waiting for us as we rounded the bend.
El Diablito stood in the center of the group, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief as waited with his arms crossed.
On his right was a thin, waif-like woman with hungry, almond-shaped brown eyes, and lanky, dark hair. I recognized her as Rose from the memory orb I had seen months earlier.
On his left was an even more ominous figure, the shrouded figure of Papa Locks, his gloved fists clenched at his sides. He loomed over the unconscious form of Jim.
As we pulled up to face these three, several more figures emerged from the Shadow around the room. Each of these half dozen figures had the heavy shoulders and the bearings of men who were more than comfortable in dealing out violence. They each held weapons of one sort or another, ranging from sub-machine guns for the farthest three to the oddly glowing and crackling clubs of the three closest to us.
El Diablito chuckled as we took in the scene.
“It was so nice of you to invite me to your little party…”
Saturday, January 20, 2007
A Mole's View...Part 2
With a cold kiss to Nick’s cheek and feral smile, Rose spun around and started walking towards the dark doorway in the far side of the vast rooms. Halfway back, she paused long enough to throw an inviting look over her shoulder and motion with the index finger of her right hand that Nick should ‘come hither’.
“Bring your little toy. My masters will be very interested in seeing it.”
Nick grunted and reached down to scoop up his CoonBot in one hand and the empty backpack in the other. He stuffed the critter and the controller into the pack as he followed this strange woman towards the door.
When Rose reached the door, she turned back one more time. “When you step through the Shadow this time, Nick, look for the door that has a likeness of my name on it, otherwise you will find yourself going somewhere you may well regret.” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice lowered and became quite sultry. “Do you understand?”
The whole view shook up and down as Nick nodded once. “Yeah, I’ve been through such portals before. I’ll watch for your door, babe. I’m not here to fool around. Lead the way.”
Rose shook her head and laughed. It was a deep throaty sound from someone with such a high-pitched nasal voice. “No, I’m afraid I will not be going with you on this journey Nick, I have other applicants that I must sort through. My job is not yet done tonight. You should know though, that everything that you have said here has been seen and heard by those that you are about to meet, so you don’t need to go through any unnecessary formalities with them.”
“Who am I going to be meeting?”
She smiled in response. “They will introduce themselves if they so choose.”
“I don’t know babe, there sure seems to be a lot of cloak and dagger funny business to this job. I thought I was through with that kind of thing years ago.”
She leaned up close to Nick again, her hand drifting from his shoulder down past his elbow before slipping further down and behind him to grab his ass. Her fingernails left chills wherever she touched him, raising goose bumps on his bare skin. “We have to be very careful Nick. We have some very powerful enemies who may be trying even now to infiltrate us.” Her eyes seemed to bore right through Nick’s and into mine. It was like she was speaking directly to me instead of Nick. “But the rewards of working with us are much richer than those of our enemies.”
Nick pushed her away with his free hand, hoisted his backpack with the other. “Alright then, let me go meet these masters of yours. I like rich rewards.”
He stepped through the door before she could respond.
The Shadow swallowed him, causing the image to go all black once again. Before long though, Nick’s vision adjusted to the dark hues and subtle variations of the Shadowland. He found himself in a long hallway with several doors on each side and he shuffled down it.
Each door had some sort of emblem on it. He paused by each on that he passed. The first door on the right was marked with a small green palm tree made of sparkling emeralds. The next door, on the left this time, was marked with a white tulip made out what might have been diamonds. The third door, still on the left side of the hall was marked by a softly glowing rose made of rubies.
Nick reached out and touched the rubies, perhaps to see if they were real or not, pulled his hand back when the door and the rubies faded out of existence, to leave only a darker shade of black shadow in its place. Another portal to step through. Nick stepped through it.
When the blackness faded away again, Nick found himself standing in a bare stone chamber with no windows or other obvious exits. “What the fuck?”
He swung around to the look for the exit again, only to find that the shadowy door had transformed into a steel door with a small barred window that was solidly shut.
He dropped the backpack to the floor and reached out with both strong hands to grab at the door. Using all of his strength to push at the door, he managed only to rattle it slightly in place.
“Hey, what the fuck is going on here? Why am I in a jail cell?”
Footsteps echoed on stone as someone approached from down a hall towards the cell.
Nick called out again. “Hey who’s out there?”
The footsteps continued to grow louder as whoever it was came closer.
“Let me out of this place!”
A small, round face of an older man with a maniacal eyes peeked through the bars at Nick. It was the face of a man I could never forget. El Diablito.
He cackled in his high-pitched voice. “So, Nicholas. You’ve come to spy on me for our friends, the ORC’s? I don’t like spies very much, Nicholas.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, man!” There was a hint of desperation in Nick’s deep voice. He was clearly flustered and surprised.
“Oh, I don’t think that is being quite truthful, Nicholas. I have my own spies you know. I happen to know that you were sent by my adversaries among the ORC’s and that you are trying to work under cover to investigate me and my new organizations. I will not tolerate such attempts on my livelihood.”
“Look man, I don’t even know who the Hell you are and what your organizations are. I just heard about someone who might be hiring Casters with unique skills. I’m tired of making cabinets. I want to make some serious money.”
El Diablito cackled again. “Nice try young man. But I am not as easily fooled as poor Rose there. She’s a useful tool, but she has her limitations. You cannot deceive me with your fake protestations of innocence.”
Nick’s shoulders slumped and his view shifted from the door to the floor for a moment as he seemed to give up. He looked back up into the face of his captor. “OK, so what are you going to do with me?”
El Diablito smiled. “Oh, I’m going to let you live. I want your current masters to know that they cannot catch me as easily as they think that they can. I want them to see what they are going to be going up against when decide to make their move. So, as soon as I have extracted all of the information I need from you, I shall be releasing you with enough memories to make a fine little show to Ms. Fyre and her cohorts.” His eyes narrowed and his face and tone grew more serious. “And Nicholas, when you tire of working for a pittance, risking your life and limb for such a ‘noble cause’ and you instead wish to apply your obvious talents towards enriching yourself and your family, I want you to come back and see me. Know this, however, that I will know what it is that you intend in your heart better than you. If you return to me while trying to deceive me again, I will leave you in Rose’s bedroom here for her to do with as she pleases. Trust me, that will not be a very pleasant fate. That poor creature has needs that will leave you a ruined husk of a man once they have been fulfilled. And you would not be able to resist fulfilling those needs either.”
The recording stopped and the images faded away.
I looked up to see Jim standing there looking at a book from one of his many packed shelves. “I’ve been wondering when I would find time to read this thing.”
“El Diablito is recruiting these Casters? He must have some moles of his own inside our…I mean your…organization.”
He nodded soberly as he put the book back into its slot. “After Ravyn and the Frau recovered these memories from Nick and helped him return to a semblance of his normal self, he disappeared. We’re not sure where he is right now.”
“Maybe he took up El Diablito on his offer.”
Jim shrugged. “That’s certainly possible. Or El Diablito could have had one of his agents eliminate him once his purpose had been served. We don’t know just yet.”
“How much more information did the Little Devil collect from Nick about the ORC’s?”
Jim shook his head. “Nick didn’t have a lot of connections within the organization. He probably didn’t learn much from him that he didn’t already know. But we’re more concerned about Nick than we are about what he gave up about us.”
“I think my decision on which enemy to focus on has been made. I hate that little asshole almost as much as I hated Drake. He also knows too much about Alexa and Naomi. He needs to be dealt with, soon.”
“Bring your little toy. My masters will be very interested in seeing it.”
Nick grunted and reached down to scoop up his CoonBot in one hand and the empty backpack in the other. He stuffed the critter and the controller into the pack as he followed this strange woman towards the door.
When Rose reached the door, she turned back one more time. “When you step through the Shadow this time, Nick, look for the door that has a likeness of my name on it, otherwise you will find yourself going somewhere you may well regret.” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice lowered and became quite sultry. “Do you understand?”
The whole view shook up and down as Nick nodded once. “Yeah, I’ve been through such portals before. I’ll watch for your door, babe. I’m not here to fool around. Lead the way.”
Rose shook her head and laughed. It was a deep throaty sound from someone with such a high-pitched nasal voice. “No, I’m afraid I will not be going with you on this journey Nick, I have other applicants that I must sort through. My job is not yet done tonight. You should know though, that everything that you have said here has been seen and heard by those that you are about to meet, so you don’t need to go through any unnecessary formalities with them.”
“Who am I going to be meeting?”
She smiled in response. “They will introduce themselves if they so choose.”
“I don’t know babe, there sure seems to be a lot of cloak and dagger funny business to this job. I thought I was through with that kind of thing years ago.”
She leaned up close to Nick again, her hand drifting from his shoulder down past his elbow before slipping further down and behind him to grab his ass. Her fingernails left chills wherever she touched him, raising goose bumps on his bare skin. “We have to be very careful Nick. We have some very powerful enemies who may be trying even now to infiltrate us.” Her eyes seemed to bore right through Nick’s and into mine. It was like she was speaking directly to me instead of Nick. “But the rewards of working with us are much richer than those of our enemies.”
Nick pushed her away with his free hand, hoisted his backpack with the other. “Alright then, let me go meet these masters of yours. I like rich rewards.”
He stepped through the door before she could respond.
The Shadow swallowed him, causing the image to go all black once again. Before long though, Nick’s vision adjusted to the dark hues and subtle variations of the Shadowland. He found himself in a long hallway with several doors on each side and he shuffled down it.
Each door had some sort of emblem on it. He paused by each on that he passed. The first door on the right was marked with a small green palm tree made of sparkling emeralds. The next door, on the left this time, was marked with a white tulip made out what might have been diamonds. The third door, still on the left side of the hall was marked by a softly glowing rose made of rubies.
Nick reached out and touched the rubies, perhaps to see if they were real or not, pulled his hand back when the door and the rubies faded out of existence, to leave only a darker shade of black shadow in its place. Another portal to step through. Nick stepped through it.
When the blackness faded away again, Nick found himself standing in a bare stone chamber with no windows or other obvious exits. “What the fuck?”
He swung around to the look for the exit again, only to find that the shadowy door had transformed into a steel door with a small barred window that was solidly shut.
He dropped the backpack to the floor and reached out with both strong hands to grab at the door. Using all of his strength to push at the door, he managed only to rattle it slightly in place.
“Hey, what the fuck is going on here? Why am I in a jail cell?”
Footsteps echoed on stone as someone approached from down a hall towards the cell.
Nick called out again. “Hey who’s out there?”
The footsteps continued to grow louder as whoever it was came closer.
“Let me out of this place!”
A small, round face of an older man with a maniacal eyes peeked through the bars at Nick. It was the face of a man I could never forget. El Diablito.
He cackled in his high-pitched voice. “So, Nicholas. You’ve come to spy on me for our friends, the ORC’s? I don’t like spies very much, Nicholas.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, man!” There was a hint of desperation in Nick’s deep voice. He was clearly flustered and surprised.
“Oh, I don’t think that is being quite truthful, Nicholas. I have my own spies you know. I happen to know that you were sent by my adversaries among the ORC’s and that you are trying to work under cover to investigate me and my new organizations. I will not tolerate such attempts on my livelihood.”
“Look man, I don’t even know who the Hell you are and what your organizations are. I just heard about someone who might be hiring Casters with unique skills. I’m tired of making cabinets. I want to make some serious money.”
El Diablito cackled again. “Nice try young man. But I am not as easily fooled as poor Rose there. She’s a useful tool, but she has her limitations. You cannot deceive me with your fake protestations of innocence.”
Nick’s shoulders slumped and his view shifted from the door to the floor for a moment as he seemed to give up. He looked back up into the face of his captor. “OK, so what are you going to do with me?”
El Diablito smiled. “Oh, I’m going to let you live. I want your current masters to know that they cannot catch me as easily as they think that they can. I want them to see what they are going to be going up against when decide to make their move. So, as soon as I have extracted all of the information I need from you, I shall be releasing you with enough memories to make a fine little show to Ms. Fyre and her cohorts.” His eyes narrowed and his face and tone grew more serious. “And Nicholas, when you tire of working for a pittance, risking your life and limb for such a ‘noble cause’ and you instead wish to apply your obvious talents towards enriching yourself and your family, I want you to come back and see me. Know this, however, that I will know what it is that you intend in your heart better than you. If you return to me while trying to deceive me again, I will leave you in Rose’s bedroom here for her to do with as she pleases. Trust me, that will not be a very pleasant fate. That poor creature has needs that will leave you a ruined husk of a man once they have been fulfilled. And you would not be able to resist fulfilling those needs either.”
The recording stopped and the images faded away.
I looked up to see Jim standing there looking at a book from one of his many packed shelves. “I’ve been wondering when I would find time to read this thing.”
“El Diablito is recruiting these Casters? He must have some moles of his own inside our…I mean your…organization.”
He nodded soberly as he put the book back into its slot. “After Ravyn and the Frau recovered these memories from Nick and helped him return to a semblance of his normal self, he disappeared. We’re not sure where he is right now.”
“Maybe he took up El Diablito on his offer.”
Jim shrugged. “That’s certainly possible. Or El Diablito could have had one of his agents eliminate him once his purpose had been served. We don’t know just yet.”
“How much more information did the Little Devil collect from Nick about the ORC’s?”
Jim shook his head. “Nick didn’t have a lot of connections within the organization. He probably didn’t learn much from him that he didn’t already know. But we’re more concerned about Nick than we are about what he gave up about us.”
“I think my decision on which enemy to focus on has been made. I hate that little asshole almost as much as I hated Drake. He also knows too much about Alexa and Naomi. He needs to be dealt with, soon.”
Sunday, January 14, 2007
A Mole's View...Part 1
I put the second orb into my jacket pocket. There would be plenty of time learn more about the ORC’s themselves later on.
I held the first orb, the one from the mole, in my hand and spoke the password. “Betsy.”
Immediately, I felt like I was swept up in a vortex of swirling colors, like being inside of a kaleidoscope that was being adjusted by an over-excited 5 year old child. I suppose it would have been quiet disorienting if I had a stomach to empty, but that wasn’t a concern for me. Instead, I relaxed and let the images sort themselves out. It didn’t take very long.
The image coalesced into a view from the back seat of older taxi cab. The tinny sounds of Indian music played in the background. I could make out the back of the purple turban-covered head of the driver of the cab, a bearded Sikh man of middling years.
The cab was moving, but it was dark outside, so the passing images were the neon signs of fast food restaurants, gas stations and convenience stores that could be found on the outskirts of nearly every American town or city.
I tried to focus on details that might give me a better clue as to where the cab was, but I found that I was constrained to the view of the person who had made the orb itself. The images and sounds that the maker of the orb saw and heard were the only images and sounds that came through on this recording. Again, rather than fight the frustration of such a limited view of events, I sat back and relaxed, content to see and hear what the mole was able to show me.
The cabbie’s head bobbed to the rhythms of the music coming from his cassette deck. The mole, however, was only cursorily interested in him. The image kept shifting from the windshield ahead to the piece of paper in the mole’s rough fingers. An address and a phone number showed on the paper: 25343 Covington Way and 555-9832.
The mole glanced back up to the display on the dashboard showing fare adding up. $19.51.
“Hey up, how much further?” The voice of the mole was loud and deep.
The cabbie looked back at the mole in the mirror as he responded. “Not much further, Sir. You get where you go when Gurmeet drive you, no funny business, OK?”
When Gurmeet turned his attention back to the road, the mole caught a small glimpse of his own face in the mirror. It was a rough, masculine face. It was the face of a man who faced many hard times in his life and had overcome those challenges through sheer force of will and more than a little dishonesty. I had seen similar looks on the faces of hundreds of perpetrators that I had arrested as a cop. The icy blue eyes were framed by a prominent brow ridge that sported bushy blonde eyebrows. The nose was on the long side, with a slight hook to the right (left because of the mirror?). His thin lips were firmly pursed in a look of not-so-slight anger or agitation. His upper lip and cheeks showed the stubble of a couple of days gone without shaving, but the stubble wasn’t long enough to hide the long, puckered scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth almost all of the way to his ear. His skin also showed several pock marks from a history of terrible acne or some other skin disease.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror seemed to irritate the man even further, as his mouth twitched in anger as looked back at the tolling meter. $22.27.
“You told me the fare would be no more than $25. I’m going to hold you to that, Gurmeet.”
Gurmeet bobbed his head and chirped out a polite answer. “Yes, Sir, that is the price I quoted. You no pay more.”
The image bobbed as the mole nodded his agreement and grunted in response. He looked down to the paper in his hand one more time and watched as he crumpled it up and tossed it to the floor of the cab.
“Sir, we are pulling up now.”
Good to his word, Gurmeet had the left turn signal on and was cranking hard on the wheel to pull the cab into the unlit driveway of a large McMansion nestled in amongst its nearly identical fellows in an otherwise unremarkable suburban community.
The cab stopped on the sloped driveway. Gurmeet got out of the cab and opened the passenger door behind him. “You see, Gurmeet knows stuff. That will be $24.78, please.”
The mole got up out of the cab, grabbing his small, worn backpack with his right hand. With his left hand he pulled out the two bills that were in his pants pocket. “Here, keep the change, and buy yourself a new air freshener, will you?” The mole easily stood six inches taller than Gurmeet, who did not appear to be a small man himself.
Gurmeet looked down at the crumpled up twenties in his hand and nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Good Sir. Here is my card. You call me direct if you need a ride back to the airport. I give you good deal, OK?”
The mole nodded and grunted. “Sure. Good night, pal.”
The mole watched from the sidewalk as Gurmeet slammed his door shut and jumped back into the front. With a friendly wave, Gurmeet back out of the driveway and sped off back in the direction of the airport. The wailing of the sitars and the female singing her cries of long lost love dwindling into the night as the cab turned from Covington Way back towards the main road.
The mole hoisted his backpack onto his left shoulder, glanced at the address plate next to the double door and began walking around the side to the back door.
With the music from the cab now gone, the night air was quiet. As with all of the homes nearby, the yard was perfectly manicured, with the grass mowed to the standardized golf course length and the bushes and hedges all trimmed to look neat and uniform. There were a number of smaller trees scattered throughout the yards, but they were still too young to stand on their own. This was clearly a recent development. Many of the houses looked to still be unoccupied.
The mole made his way to the elevated back deck of the huge house. The sounds of his heavy boots thumping on the wooden steps seemed loud, but he didn’t hesitate. He tromped up to the sliding glass door and tested it to see if it was open. Once he discovered that it was locked, he tried to peer inside, but the darkness inside the home was even deeper than night outside. Grunting again, he rapped loudly on the glass with his right hand, a thick ring on his ring finger making the loudest crack on the glass.
At first nothing happened. Then a face appeared just inside the glass door, almost as if by magick. It was a thin face of a woman who had seen almost as many hard times as the mole. She looked him up and down, eyes darting back and forth as she seemed to be watching for others as well. Finally a pale hand emerged from the darkness beneath her face and clicked the lock on the door. She nodded towards the handle on the door before both hand and face evaporated back into the inky darkness inside.
He opened the door and slipped inside the home, also glancing back to make sure that he was alone and unseen.
The image from the orb went completely dark, like I experienced when calling the Shadow to use it for travel from place to place.
When the image returned, it was quite clear that the mole was not standing inside the dining room of a suburban McMansion, but was now inside a worn out industrial warehouse of some sort. The light came from flickering fluorescent bulbs swaying in a stiff breeze. Puddles of water reflected that dim light, echoing with the drips of more water that also came from above.
The thin woman stood in a plain blue jumpsuit and boots, her frazzled hair framing her anemic looking face. Her arms were crossed as if she had been waiting impatiently. She was alone in the large, abandoned looking room.
Her sharp, nasal voice cut through the air as she spoke. “Name?”
The mole looked her up and down, glanced about the room. His eyes took in the darkened doorways and halls leading from this rather large, empty room. “Nick, Nicholas Kolkiwiecz. Who’re you?”
“You may call me Rose. State your purpose here.”
The mole shrugged. “Look, I heard that this was the place to come if you have certain talents and are looking for work. I sure as Hell hope that I’m in the right damn place or I’m going to make someone pay for my trip out here. I need work, not extra expenses.”
Rose didn’t look all that impressed. She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps towards Nick. Her head titled slightly to the left and down as she spoke, a sly smile creeping over her plain, drawn face. Her eyes were perhaps her only attractive feature, as they were large, almond shaped and brown. The rest of her face was pale to the point of being almost sickly. Her thin eyebrows had been drawn in after having been shaved, plucked or waxed clean. Her nose was long and thin, ending in two flaring nostrils that showed the redness of a drug addict while her lips were thin and colorless. Her cheekbones nearly protruded through her pale skin.
“You’re in the right place if you are looking for work, but I need to make sure that you have the talent to make it worth the while of my masters for you to speak with them. What talents do you bring to this party, Nick?”
Her lips pulled back as she smiled. Her teeth glittered and gleamed in the dim light, reflecting off of the silver and gems that were set in them. Her canines were the most modified, having been lengthened and given a fang-like sharpness to them.
Nick nodded, standing his ground. “Good enough. I’m very talented with my hands.” He let the backpack slide to the ground and brought his hand to show Rose. His hands were thick with calluses, showing the obvious wear and tear of a person who worked with tools on a daily basis.
Rose came even close, touching his hand with hers. Her fingers ended in talon-like nails that were painted a bright red. Her touch must have been cold, because Nick flinched ever so slightly with her touch.
“That’s nice, Nick, but we don’t need any cabinets built here.” She stroked her fingers up and down his right hand, her nails leaving a slight trail of white marks where they passed. “The things we’re building require a bit more finesse than your hands seem to be capable of producing, if you know what I mean?” Her smile was only a few inches from his hand now.
“Look Lady, I only work with wood and metal when I need to, when I need to look like I make an honest living.” He pulled his hand back from her face as she ran a tongue over the gems in her upper teeth. “My talents lie with other, less conventional materials.”
“Oh, and just what might those be, dear Nick?” Her eyes ran up and down his body, as if she were she was very hungry and he was a great meal.
Nick knelt down to his backpack. “Step back now, Miss, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He reached into the pack and pulled out a small black controller with a knob and several buttons. He then flipped back the flap covering the opening and stood up.
Curious, Rose knelt down towards the pack despite Nick’s warning. “Show me what surprise you have for us.”
“Alright, but I warned you.”
Nick mashed a button with one of his fingers and the pack rustled as if something was coming alive.
Rose leaned closer.
Nick turned the knob on the controller and pressed another button. The thing in the backpack erupted from inside with a leap to land right in front of the startled Rose. It was a raccoon with glassy eyes and a permanent snarl to its face. As Nick manipulated the buttons and the knob, the creature moved with almost lifelike precision and speed.
Rose laughed with delight as she reached out to touch the fur. “It feels so life-like. Did you use real fur?”
Nick nodded. “It’s almost all real, from the bones and sinew to the fur. It’s a real raccoon.”
She marveled at the creature as he made it dance and maneuver around in front of her. “How does it move around?”
“That’s my little secret. Let me just say that you can’t buy it in stores. But my talents are for sale, if you know what I mean.”
Rose looked up from the zombified ‘coon and back up to Nick with a new kind of appreciation. “Can you do this with other creatures? Bigger creatures?”
Nick nodded again. “Yep, anything that’s got a body with bones, muscles and skin. The bigger they are, the easier they are to work with.”
Rose smiled again, this time it was the smile of someone who is pleasantly surprised. “I think, Nick, that you need to speak to my masters.”
(To be continued…)
I held the first orb, the one from the mole, in my hand and spoke the password. “Betsy.”
Immediately, I felt like I was swept up in a vortex of swirling colors, like being inside of a kaleidoscope that was being adjusted by an over-excited 5 year old child. I suppose it would have been quiet disorienting if I had a stomach to empty, but that wasn’t a concern for me. Instead, I relaxed and let the images sort themselves out. It didn’t take very long.
The image coalesced into a view from the back seat of older taxi cab. The tinny sounds of Indian music played in the background. I could make out the back of the purple turban-covered head of the driver of the cab, a bearded Sikh man of middling years.
The cab was moving, but it was dark outside, so the passing images were the neon signs of fast food restaurants, gas stations and convenience stores that could be found on the outskirts of nearly every American town or city.
I tried to focus on details that might give me a better clue as to where the cab was, but I found that I was constrained to the view of the person who had made the orb itself. The images and sounds that the maker of the orb saw and heard were the only images and sounds that came through on this recording. Again, rather than fight the frustration of such a limited view of events, I sat back and relaxed, content to see and hear what the mole was able to show me.
The cabbie’s head bobbed to the rhythms of the music coming from his cassette deck. The mole, however, was only cursorily interested in him. The image kept shifting from the windshield ahead to the piece of paper in the mole’s rough fingers. An address and a phone number showed on the paper: 25343 Covington Way and 555-9832.
The mole glanced back up to the display on the dashboard showing fare adding up. $19.51.
“Hey up, how much further?” The voice of the mole was loud and deep.
The cabbie looked back at the mole in the mirror as he responded. “Not much further, Sir. You get where you go when Gurmeet drive you, no funny business, OK?”
When Gurmeet turned his attention back to the road, the mole caught a small glimpse of his own face in the mirror. It was a rough, masculine face. It was the face of a man who faced many hard times in his life and had overcome those challenges through sheer force of will and more than a little dishonesty. I had seen similar looks on the faces of hundreds of perpetrators that I had arrested as a cop. The icy blue eyes were framed by a prominent brow ridge that sported bushy blonde eyebrows. The nose was on the long side, with a slight hook to the right (left because of the mirror?). His thin lips were firmly pursed in a look of not-so-slight anger or agitation. His upper lip and cheeks showed the stubble of a couple of days gone without shaving, but the stubble wasn’t long enough to hide the long, puckered scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth almost all of the way to his ear. His skin also showed several pock marks from a history of terrible acne or some other skin disease.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror seemed to irritate the man even further, as his mouth twitched in anger as looked back at the tolling meter. $22.27.
“You told me the fare would be no more than $25. I’m going to hold you to that, Gurmeet.”
Gurmeet bobbed his head and chirped out a polite answer. “Yes, Sir, that is the price I quoted. You no pay more.”
The image bobbed as the mole nodded his agreement and grunted in response. He looked down to the paper in his hand one more time and watched as he crumpled it up and tossed it to the floor of the cab.
“Sir, we are pulling up now.”
Good to his word, Gurmeet had the left turn signal on and was cranking hard on the wheel to pull the cab into the unlit driveway of a large McMansion nestled in amongst its nearly identical fellows in an otherwise unremarkable suburban community.
The cab stopped on the sloped driveway. Gurmeet got out of the cab and opened the passenger door behind him. “You see, Gurmeet knows stuff. That will be $24.78, please.”
The mole got up out of the cab, grabbing his small, worn backpack with his right hand. With his left hand he pulled out the two bills that were in his pants pocket. “Here, keep the change, and buy yourself a new air freshener, will you?” The mole easily stood six inches taller than Gurmeet, who did not appear to be a small man himself.
Gurmeet looked down at the crumpled up twenties in his hand and nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Good Sir. Here is my card. You call me direct if you need a ride back to the airport. I give you good deal, OK?”
The mole nodded and grunted. “Sure. Good night, pal.”
The mole watched from the sidewalk as Gurmeet slammed his door shut and jumped back into the front. With a friendly wave, Gurmeet back out of the driveway and sped off back in the direction of the airport. The wailing of the sitars and the female singing her cries of long lost love dwindling into the night as the cab turned from Covington Way back towards the main road.
The mole hoisted his backpack onto his left shoulder, glanced at the address plate next to the double door and began walking around the side to the back door.
With the music from the cab now gone, the night air was quiet. As with all of the homes nearby, the yard was perfectly manicured, with the grass mowed to the standardized golf course length and the bushes and hedges all trimmed to look neat and uniform. There were a number of smaller trees scattered throughout the yards, but they were still too young to stand on their own. This was clearly a recent development. Many of the houses looked to still be unoccupied.
The mole made his way to the elevated back deck of the huge house. The sounds of his heavy boots thumping on the wooden steps seemed loud, but he didn’t hesitate. He tromped up to the sliding glass door and tested it to see if it was open. Once he discovered that it was locked, he tried to peer inside, but the darkness inside the home was even deeper than night outside. Grunting again, he rapped loudly on the glass with his right hand, a thick ring on his ring finger making the loudest crack on the glass.
At first nothing happened. Then a face appeared just inside the glass door, almost as if by magick. It was a thin face of a woman who had seen almost as many hard times as the mole. She looked him up and down, eyes darting back and forth as she seemed to be watching for others as well. Finally a pale hand emerged from the darkness beneath her face and clicked the lock on the door. She nodded towards the handle on the door before both hand and face evaporated back into the inky darkness inside.
He opened the door and slipped inside the home, also glancing back to make sure that he was alone and unseen.
The image from the orb went completely dark, like I experienced when calling the Shadow to use it for travel from place to place.
When the image returned, it was quite clear that the mole was not standing inside the dining room of a suburban McMansion, but was now inside a worn out industrial warehouse of some sort. The light came from flickering fluorescent bulbs swaying in a stiff breeze. Puddles of water reflected that dim light, echoing with the drips of more water that also came from above.
The thin woman stood in a plain blue jumpsuit and boots, her frazzled hair framing her anemic looking face. Her arms were crossed as if she had been waiting impatiently. She was alone in the large, abandoned looking room.
Her sharp, nasal voice cut through the air as she spoke. “Name?”
The mole looked her up and down, glanced about the room. His eyes took in the darkened doorways and halls leading from this rather large, empty room. “Nick, Nicholas Kolkiwiecz. Who’re you?”
“You may call me Rose. State your purpose here.”
The mole shrugged. “Look, I heard that this was the place to come if you have certain talents and are looking for work. I sure as Hell hope that I’m in the right damn place or I’m going to make someone pay for my trip out here. I need work, not extra expenses.”
Rose didn’t look all that impressed. She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps towards Nick. Her head titled slightly to the left and down as she spoke, a sly smile creeping over her plain, drawn face. Her eyes were perhaps her only attractive feature, as they were large, almond shaped and brown. The rest of her face was pale to the point of being almost sickly. Her thin eyebrows had been drawn in after having been shaved, plucked or waxed clean. Her nose was long and thin, ending in two flaring nostrils that showed the redness of a drug addict while her lips were thin and colorless. Her cheekbones nearly protruded through her pale skin.
“You’re in the right place if you are looking for work, but I need to make sure that you have the talent to make it worth the while of my masters for you to speak with them. What talents do you bring to this party, Nick?”
Her lips pulled back as she smiled. Her teeth glittered and gleamed in the dim light, reflecting off of the silver and gems that were set in them. Her canines were the most modified, having been lengthened and given a fang-like sharpness to them.
Nick nodded, standing his ground. “Good enough. I’m very talented with my hands.” He let the backpack slide to the ground and brought his hand to show Rose. His hands were thick with calluses, showing the obvious wear and tear of a person who worked with tools on a daily basis.
Rose came even close, touching his hand with hers. Her fingers ended in talon-like nails that were painted a bright red. Her touch must have been cold, because Nick flinched ever so slightly with her touch.
“That’s nice, Nick, but we don’t need any cabinets built here.” She stroked her fingers up and down his right hand, her nails leaving a slight trail of white marks where they passed. “The things we’re building require a bit more finesse than your hands seem to be capable of producing, if you know what I mean?” Her smile was only a few inches from his hand now.
“Look Lady, I only work with wood and metal when I need to, when I need to look like I make an honest living.” He pulled his hand back from her face as she ran a tongue over the gems in her upper teeth. “My talents lie with other, less conventional materials.”
“Oh, and just what might those be, dear Nick?” Her eyes ran up and down his body, as if she were she was very hungry and he was a great meal.
Nick knelt down to his backpack. “Step back now, Miss, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He reached into the pack and pulled out a small black controller with a knob and several buttons. He then flipped back the flap covering the opening and stood up.
Curious, Rose knelt down towards the pack despite Nick’s warning. “Show me what surprise you have for us.”
“Alright, but I warned you.”
Nick mashed a button with one of his fingers and the pack rustled as if something was coming alive.
Rose leaned closer.
Nick turned the knob on the controller and pressed another button. The thing in the backpack erupted from inside with a leap to land right in front of the startled Rose. It was a raccoon with glassy eyes and a permanent snarl to its face. As Nick manipulated the buttons and the knob, the creature moved with almost lifelike precision and speed.
Rose laughed with delight as she reached out to touch the fur. “It feels so life-like. Did you use real fur?”
Nick nodded. “It’s almost all real, from the bones and sinew to the fur. It’s a real raccoon.”
She marveled at the creature as he made it dance and maneuver around in front of her. “How does it move around?”
“That’s my little secret. Let me just say that you can’t buy it in stores. But my talents are for sale, if you know what I mean.”
Rose looked up from the zombified ‘coon and back up to Nick with a new kind of appreciation. “Can you do this with other creatures? Bigger creatures?”
Nick nodded again. “Yep, anything that’s got a body with bones, muscles and skin. The bigger they are, the easier they are to work with.”
Rose smiled again, this time it was the smile of someone who is pleasantly surprised. “I think, Nick, that you need to speak to my masters.”
(To be continued…)
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